


but you couldn't hide a heart made of glass (when all you want to be is lost)

by OsleyaKomWonkru



Series: The Untold Story of Wonkru [3]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Episode: s05e11 The Dark Year, F/F, Nightmares, Niylah is a Saint, Octavia is Broken, Self-Sacrifice, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-28
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-03 22:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15828345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OsleyaKomWonkru/pseuds/OsleyaKomWonkru
Summary: After Octavia wakes up from another nightmare of that day in the cafeteria, Niylah helps her find a way to live with what she's done.“Okteivia,you didn’t want to do it. I know that.”“Please don't. Please don't make excuses for me. They deserve better than that. I deserve to feel like this. I don’t need your absolution.”“You need something,strikon.Peace, at least. Otherwise you'll destroy yourself. And I don't want you to destroy yourself.”“Why not?”“Because I love you.”





	but you couldn't hide a heart made of glass (when all you want to be is lost)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set at about day 752 as detailed in letters in the first story in this series, [there's a letter sealed and unopened for you (we hold it in the most when we're wearing thin)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15794610), at the end of Chapter 2: The Silver Age.
> 
> Trigedasleng used in this story below. Sorry if I've made any mistakes with it!
> 
> Okteivia - Octavia  
> Beja - please  
> Stomba raun - wake up  
> (Ai) strikon - (my) little one  
> Sen daun - put it down  
> Emo gonplei ste odon - Their fight is over  
> Yu gonplei nou ste odon - Your fight is not over  
> Ai niron - my love

_Blood. All she could see was blood._

_Octavia feels the gun trembling in her hands, sees the bodies in front of her, food still on their plates, untouched._

_Why didn’t they eat? With survival, their survival, the survival of the human race, in their hands, why weren’t they eating?_

_Another shot. Another collective cry._

_Two voices whispering in her ear. “Octavia, please don’t do this, please don’t do this…” warring with “We must get full compliance, full compliance, full compliance…”_

_She pulls the trigger again, and this time the screaming doesn’t stop. She touches her face, to feel her tears, and her hand comes away bloody._

_The screaming continues._

_“Okteivia! Okteivia, beja! Stomba raun! Beja!”_

Octavia came to, thrashing in her bed, hearing a voice murmuring in her ear and feeling arms trying to keep her down. She fought against them, wrenching away, landing on her feet on the ground, looking for her sword, looking for the source of the screaming.

It was only when her sword was in her hand that she saw Niylah sitting in the middle of her bed, mouth closed and expression serious, but the screaming still wouldn’t stop, that she realized the screaming was coming from her own mouth.

Niylah moved towards her slowly, hands out. _“Okteivia, strikon,_ shhh. It’s okay. _Sen daun, beja.”_

Octavia looked at the weapon in her hand, feeling its weight shift, seeing a handgun in place of her sword. A gun like the one she used to execute _her people_ in the cafeteria. She flung it away, but heard just the _clang_ of a sword hitting the wall. She blinked a few times, refocused her eyes, and yes, it was a sword, there was no gun. She didn’t carry a gun.

The screaming continued.

Soft hands started rubbing her shoulders, and the screaming slowly faded away.

“That’s it.” Niylah said in her soft soothing voice. “Shhh. It’s okay, _strikon_.”

“I’m sorry.” Octavia whispered. “Sorry for waking you.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.” Octavia looked away and went back to the bed, sitting on it, but not making any move to lie down.

Niylah sat down next to her, brushing Octavia’s hair back from her face. “It’ll help, I promise.”

“What do you want me to say? How I still see their faces? How every time I close my eyes, they’re there. I can’t escape them. They’re always there and it was me, I did that and I can’t - I can’t even stand to be around myself right now so I don’t know why you’re here. How you want to be here. Everyone’s afraid of me right now.”

“I’m not.”

“Maybe you should be.”

“ _Okteivia,_ why would I be afraid when there’s nothing to be afraid of?”

Octavia finally looked at her. “Niylah, I murdered three of my people last week. _My people._ ”

“I know. But you saved even more than that. Now, we’ll live.”

“Tell that to the people I shot.”

“ _Emo gonplei ste odon._ That’s true. They sacrificed themselves for the greater good. I know you feel that pieces of your spirit died with them. I know you feel their deaths heavy on your soul. But _yu gonplei nou ste odon, Okteivia._ You have to go on living.”

“How can I live with myself after what I did?”

“Like this.”

Niylah took one of Octavia’s hands, pressing it to her own chest, so Octavia could feel her heart beat, deep and steady, compared to Octavia’s fast racing pulse.

“Just breathe with me, _ai strikon._ Just breathe.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You’re in pain. But you don’t have to be alone in this.”

“In pain? Niylah, I murdered my own people. It’s what I deserve.”

“ _Okteivia,_ you didn’t want to do it. I know that.”

“Please don't. Please don't make excuses for me. They deserve better than that. I deserve to feel like this. I don’t need your absolution.”

“You need something, _strikon._ Peace, at least. Otherwise you'll destroy yourself. And I don't want you to destroy yourself.”

“Why not?”

“Because I love you.”

Octavia’s breath hitched and her fingers pressed against Niylah’s chest a little more firmly. She looked away from Niylah for a moment, and looked back, an expression of complete confusion on her face.

“Why?” It was barely a whisper, but Niylah heard it.

“Because you’re the most selfless person I’ve ever met.”

“How can you say that?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I believe Shakespeare said something like that, no?”

“Yes. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

“Leaders are called to do things for the good of their people. Sometimes what is good for their people will still make those people angry. Furious, even. And people may die. Being a leader is the hardest job there is, and it comes with the least thanks. Many leaders cope by locking away their hearts and their vulnerabilities. This hardens them, and leads them to make the hard decisions, but delegate the hard actions. But not you. You lead by example, and won’t let anyone do something you’re not willing to do yourself. That takes a rare courage.”

Octavia glanced towards her nightstand, where her dagger lay, the place she’d abandoned it a week earlier after not using it to end her own life, choosing instead to go on and force her people into compliance.

“I’m not as strong as you think, Niylah.”

“I think you are.”

“I just feel empty.”

“You’re not empty, _Okteivia._ Quite the opposite. You remember what you told me about Ilian?”

“Yes.”

“You said that when you met him, you felt empty, that you felt nothing, and he helped you fill your heart again, even if you only knew each other for a short time. And it is that heart that helped you win the Conclave, and that guided you to save all of us. You feel the way you feel right now because you’re _not_ empty. You have so much love in your heart. That’s why this hurts.”

“As it should.”

“My people have a saying. If death has no cost, life has no worth.”

“Lincoln said that once. When we needed to give up a boy who had shot a village full of Grounders to the Commander’s justice.”

“Yes. I remember. And then that boy’s death forged a lasting peace. It was a necessary sacrifice. Much like the sacrifice you’ve made for your people.”

“I’m still alive. I was judge, jury and executioner, not the sacrifice.”

“Not all sacrifices are of the flesh, _ai niron._ You did what you had to to make your people live. Many of them may hate you for it. But you also absolved them of what guilt they may have felt. And carrying the weight of everyone’s guilt - that’s _your_ sacrifice to bear. What you did will always be with you. You will always feel the weight of those deaths. But if you let it destroy you, then it will have all been for nothing. And I don’t think you want that.”

“I don’t.”

“Good.”

“So what do I do now?”

“Live.”

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "Under the Knife" and "War" by Icon For Hire.


End file.
